“Please go and see that—nothing happens,” she pleaded. “Don’t bunch too much as you come out,” she added. Jack Kimble stiffened, looking at his interrogator with wary anger in his face. ‘This is altogether insupportable!’ She dug a hand into the recesses of the petticoat of her riding habit and a moment later Gerald found himself once again confronting the barrel of her overlarge and tarnished pistol. But Jack eluded their grasp. He's a nice boy, a good student. Behind the Avenue was a little hill, and an iron-fenced path went over the crest of this to a stile under an elm-tree, and forked there, with one branch going back into the Avenue again. His complexion was as blue as a sailor's jacket, and though Mr.
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